At first glance, Nick Thune is a tad precious. Well dressed enough that he could get away with ordering a manhattan at a Walkmen concert, he has a twinkle in his eye that plays nicely with his boyish looks and salon-cut hairdo. And like Demitri Martin—who can border on adorable—Thune tells jokes over the gentle strumming of an acoustic guitar. He plays nothing in particular, but it gives his set a flow that helps him avoid the awkwardness of changing topics from one joke to the next.
What makes Thune much more than a cutout of a pandering indie-coffeehouse comic is the subtle snark embedded in his repertoire—and the fact that he says “You’re welcome” when he comes on stage. His delivery is straight-faced—practically solemn at times—which makes it seem like he not only wants the audience to laugh at how seriously he’s taking these jokes, but also to sympathize. And when he utters something like, “The other day I walked in on my roommate while I was masturbating. My roommate’s actually my wife. She hates it when I call her my roommate,” you damn near feel for him as you lower your head and snicker to yourself.